


Home

by Kitsu



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Anal, And Why I Can't Have Nice Things, As Season 3 Is Out This Is Now Firmly An AU, Come as Lube, Every Word is a Safe Word, Hand Jobs, How Do I Tag, I Swear Trevor is There, M/M, No Dialogue, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Season 2, Sensory Deprivation, Spit As Lube, This is weird, almost, no talking, vampire killer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:48:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22193578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsu/pseuds/Kitsu
Summary: “You came back.”
Relationships: Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya & Trevor Belmont, Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Trevor Belmont, Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Trevor Belmont | Alucard, Trevor Belmont/Trevor Belmont | Alucard
Comments: 13
Kudos: 194





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**Author's Note:**

> Challenge to myself: write a fic with barely no exposition and minimal dialogue, all inside the head of *one* character. Adrian happened to to become my unlucky victim.

_“You came back.”_

\---

Adrian was lying flat on his back atop his bed, skin naked to the night. Though the air was warm, it rose in goosebumps whenever a sound drifted through the dark. His eyes were closed, eyelashes fluttering softly against the top of his cheeks - he’d made a promise, and they weren’t coming open until he was given the word. His arms were stretched out above his head, elbows angled, hands not tied down, but the leather that rested across his wrists carried a weight - the burn and promise of something holy and heavy. His fingers curled in towards his palms, softly tingling in anticipation.

The mattress shifted at his feet, dipping under the weight of another, sheets softly rustling. 

A hand touched his foot softly, nudging it to the side as its owner moved to settle between his legs, hands on his skin, a thumb running up and down the sole of his foot, massaging, warm and firm. Another hand slid up to wrap around his ankle, a soft, slow drag of skin against skin.

Neck arching, he tilted his head back, sighing into the darkness, savouring the touches. 

Hands moved, drifted further up, a hand hiking his knee up, nails running across the soft, sensitive skin inside the joint, the touch sending a shiver twisting, coiling up up his spine. Goosebumps broke out on his arms rising again, shifting in waves, depending on which nerves were stimulated.

The hand at the back of his knee stilled, the other drifted up his thigh, a stretch of splayed fingers and palm warm against him, soft, exploring. At his hip, the fingers curled, grasping, a thumb running the length up his hip bone, back and forth. He shifted beneath it, the hand on his hip so close to the part of him that were starting to stir, starting to demand attention.

A soft chuckle filled his ears, but the hands on his skin didn’t move, not right away. Yet there was movement, a shift of the one between his legs, as _he_ moved closer, drove _his_ knees in under Adrian’s thighs. The hands shifted, both now resting on his hips - before they started sliding upwards, ghosts of fingertips brushing across his exposed belly, his muscles twitching beneath the touch. Then the fingers ran across his ribs, almost ticklish, but not. They sketched out every bone visible, painting across them, as if counting, mapping. Committing to memory. 

Calloused fingertips flicked across his nipples, rough, warm, and on the return, blunt nails. He arched into the touch, moaning. Biting his bottom lip, catching it with his fang, the taste of iron filling his mouth for a second time.

The hands lingered for a moment, teasing, before continuing further up - until they wrapped around his throat, thumbs resting at the notch of his throat, rubbing lazy circles. Breathing deeply, his chest rising and falling, he squirmed. The feather-light, searching, exploring touches were nowhere close to satisfying enough.

The form between his legs shifted again, until it settled across his hips, heavier, warmer, flesh and skin burning against his. His cock was caught between them, hard, unattended, left wanting. The form shifted again, leaned in, blanketed him, pushing him down into the mattress, heavy and right. 

Warm breath wafted along the side of his face as the other seemed to hesitate, waiting, and when _he_ moved again, brushing his lips against Adrian’s, dry, warm, they felt almost chaste. Adrian tilted into it, tipped his chin up, welcoming it. The pressure increased, the wet warmth of a tongue pushed against the seam of his lips, asking entrance. Obligingly he let it in, tasted _him_ take control of his mouth _._ Needy little whimpers bubbled up in his throat, feral mewls he had no control over. Whimpers.

One hand stayed at his throat, almost uncomfortably heavy, limiting his breathing as it pushed him down. The other drifted to the back of his head, fingers catching in his hair, twisting, pulling, sending little twinges of pain down his spine. Arching into the kiss, he pulled against the fist in his hair, consciously adding to the pain - its dark sting appreciated. It earned him an appreciative growl from the other, the sound hot, warm, fire in his ears.

The one above him shifted again, his warm, wet mouth settling below Adrian’s ear, painting a wet, quickly cooling path downward - along his jugular, teeth raking across his clavicle, tongue dipping into the notch of his throat, drawing a line down his sternum, pausing only in the middle of his chest, above his heart, warm, comforting. The hands moved, leaving him able to breathe freely again, to settle at his waist. The mouth drifted sideways, a wet tongue licking across a nipple, teeth nipping, the fire it sparked inflaming neural pathways, shooting straight to his cock. His breath hitched in his throat even though it was now unrestrained. Arching into the touch, _he_ hummed, the vibration so close to his skin spreading warmth across it. 

Another shift, and the mouth drifted downward across his belly, causing his breath to stutter as a stubbled jaw scraped against sensitive skin. The tongue seemed to want to map every rise and dip, every sensitive spot, even dipping into his navel on its path downwards. When the underside of a chin bumped against the head of his cock, he twitched, wanting the mouth to continue downward, but the other stilled, chuckling throatily.

Tilting his hip, Adrian bucked up, needing the touches to go on, but instead the heat of skin against his own pulled away, disappeared, left him cold. He whined. 

Then the hands were at his hips instead, urging him to turn over onto his belly to get up on his hands and knees. The weight of the whip across his hands disappeared, only the slight sting of the holy burn remaining, like welts left by a rope burn. It was somehow...pleasant, feeling marked for a moment.

On his knees, the warm shape behind him nudged his knees a bit further away from each other, before settling against the back of his thighs and ass. The warm hands were resting on his lower back, the one obviously still holding the coiled up holy whip, as the leather stung his side. It was enough to make him hiss between his teeth, further so when the same arm slid around his waist to rest the coiled whip against his ribs, sometimes rubbing against the nubs of his nipples.

The other hand trailed a path from his tailbone to just below his shoulder blades, fingers drawing across each and every vertebra, as if to map them out. The fingers traced along the sharp edges of shoulder blades. The warm weigh leaned across his back, wet tongue tracing up the rest of the way, to settle at the prominent vertebra below his neck. 

Hands pulled, drawing him up on his knees, his back flush against the other’s front, a hardness caught between them, settled against his ass. No time to focus on it though, as the coiled whip was still being run across his chest, now joined by the other hand holding him up.

Lifting his hands, he gathered the mass of his hair, pulling it across one shoulder, leaving the other bared. Tilting his head back to rest against the other’s shoulder, he wordlessly offered up the length of his neck to _his_ mouth, and soon enough the mouth found the joint between neck and shoulder, biting down, almost bruising, then a warm tongue quickly licked, soothed away any soreness. 

The hand not gripping the whip dropped down, hot fingers wrapping around hot flesh. How he had waited for it. His eyes almost fluttered open, he had to concentrate hard, willing them to keep shut still. The fingers touching him were warm, strong, calloused. Echoes of the man they belonged to, also he warm, strong and at least trying to appear calloused. Though he quite often failed the last aspect, often far more innocent than he pretended.

As the fingers moved across his heated skin, he felt the tug at the base of his spine increase, a slowly building pressure under clever touches. A low hum, almost a continuous growl reverberated against his neck, where the hot warmth of _his_ mouth and tongue were drawing lazy patterns. The strokes on his cock were speeding up, and the burn of the whip pressed against his torso a pleasurable agony. Breath quickening, the rise and fall of his chest pushed him closer to the weapon, then lessening it’s burning touch the next moment. Holy hell, if he didn’t just love it. Breathing deep and unevenly through his nose, as his teeth were too busy biting down on his lip, drawing blood again for him to be able to breathe through his mouth. His breath sounded ragged and broken even to his own ears. What did he sound like to the other?

A familiar tenseness seeped into his muscles, slowly, in unison with _his_ strokes, and Adrian reached up, wrapping a hand in shorter, coarser hair at the back of _his_ head, gripping to steady himself. His other hand was behind his back, clutching the hip of the one pressed up against him, awkwardly. The more the pressure increased, the harder he gritted his teeth, the more his back arched, the more his clawed fingers pulled, dug into skin, a soft hiss answered against skin at his neck - but the hand on his cock never faltered, though he was aware he was most likely hurting _him_ with his claws.

Not allowed to speak, he was biting down curses, prayers, demands, only ragged hisses and moans being allowed to pass his lips - the last one before the pressure in the pit of his belly reached its apex ,a low, drawn out whimper. All the delicious pleasure that had been welling up broke, wracking him as stars danced behind his eyelids, every muscle tensed to the point of painful, before as he came hard, spilling across _his_ hand. 

Spent, his head slumped forward, hair falling, cascading with him, curtaining his face, as he tried leveling his breath. A palm against the small of his back urged him back down on all fours, and him simply let his arms collapse beneath himself, face buried in the sheets, to exhausted to bother keeping himself propped up.

The warmth against his back never left, so when a sticky, slick finger touched against his entrance, he was fully aware it was his own come being used as slick. Couldn’t say _he_ didn't have a make-do attitude, no. Adrian chuckled into the bed. It wouldn’t be the best, but he’d also make do. He could take it, and the other one knew it. 

A digit pushed into him, slowly, carefully, just on the right side of pain. It caressed his insides, slowly, warm, searching. Finding. _Unholy Mother Lilith_ , if he didn’t feel another spark shoot straight to his core. Another finger joined the first, pushing, stretching rubbing. And he pushed back onto the fingers, wanting _. Needing._ Now. Words not allowed, he made his whole body scream it - from eagerly pushing back, to the whimpers muffled in the bed. 

_He_ seemed to read him like an open book, the sound of him spitting into his hand reaching Adrian. Then the fingers disappeared only to be replaced by the blunt head of a barely wet cock. Curling his fingers into the bedding he braced, pushing back as soon as _he_ started pushing into him, probably catching _him_ by surprise.

Gritting his teeth, he bore the pain of forcing the other to bottom out in the first push. The growl from above him was the reward he wanted, hands on his hips clenching, the fingers digging into skin and muscle, whip gone. He wanted it hard, and he was getting it hard, the pace set by the other punishing, rubbing his insides raw, yet pushing his buttons in all the right ways.

Breath being ripped from his lungs with every thrust, he felt the same heat, the same pressure build again, though harsher this time, nerves already jagged, frayed. It felt like mere moments before his cock was as needy as ever. He whined breathily, and twisted his arm to touch himself, just a palm to rub against with every thrust, skin almost raw, touch almost too much.

This wasn’t the slow build of the first climax, this was raw and wicked, quick and tattered and he saw to it that he came again before _him_ , clamping down, ripping his climax from him, feeling the other’s thrusts falter, his cock twitching in his ass, a heat and fullness. The heat of _him_ collapsed against his back and to the side, pulling him along, onto his side. The cock slipped from his ass, but he was enveloped by warmth, embraced by strong arms, pulled close against a rough chest. Warm breath drifted against the side of his face, the room silent. 

\---

_“Yes, I’m back. For good.”_

\--- 

His eyes flew open at the words, before slowly closing again - the words whispered against the back of his head made his heart kick hard against his ribs, trying to claw its way out in sheer happiness. They echoed in his mind as he fell asleep nuzzled against the front of one Trevor Belmont. _He was back. Home._

**Author's Note:**

> Too weird?


End file.
